Like The Start Of A Bad Joke
by Sunflowers In Moscow
Summary: Crowley, Balthazar, and Gabriel, Kings of Sass (and Hell, in one particular case) find themselves drinking heavily in the same bar late one night. / / For Crowley to explain exactly what was going on, it would require him to know what the bloody hell actually happened, so an explanation was looking more and more unlikely, if he was being honest. / / Written for jellybabiesforall.


**_I don't own Supernatural._**

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**_Warnings: Some language._**

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In order for Crowley to explain exactly what was going on, he supposed he would have to start at the beginning. Unfortunately, that would require him to _know _what in the bloody hell actually happened, so an explanation was looking more and more unlikely, if he was being honest.

It was like the start of a bad joke.

"Fill 'er up, sweet cheeks."

He let out a long suffering sigh, before turning his head slightly to the left, and looking at Gabriel (a bloody archangel; how Crowley got into these situations was beyond him, stuff like this was usually Tweedledum and Tweedledee's forte) who had set his empty glass down with a clink while raising his eyebrows suggestively at the barmaid. Said barmaid was trying to act as uninterested as possible as she hurried away to get his drink, however her frequent glances back and Gabriel's ominous chuckling as he slicked back his hair, muttering about getting lucky negated that completely. All these events were successful in thoroughly repulsing Crowley, so he summoned the most patronising look he had in his arsenal, but _of course_, all it got him was a flirtatious wink and:

"Don't be jealous, _honey_." The endearment practically dripped with sticky sweetness, and Crowley would have shuddered even if he hadn't been a demon. "There's plenty of this gorgeousness to go around."

He swirled his scotch in his glass as he considered his chances at confiscating the archangel's own blade and sodomising him with it (the thought was very appealing, but he then reconsidered; Gabriel would probably enjoy it too much), then just as he was about to snap back, another person chimed in.

"Really, Gabriel, I know you've been down here a while, but surely you still have a line of standards - however low it may be." Balthazar's voice was laced with its usual sarcastic, biting tone, and as much as Crowley might hate the two angels that were currently blocking his escape, this one was marginally more tolerable. He could relate to the need to brutally destroy any being that might have self-esteem, after all.

"Aww, baby bro, you wound me." Gabriel dramatically grasps at his chest, as if clutching his heart, and his face makes a comical expression that Crowley may have laughed at if he wasn't busy celebrating at the perfect opening that had just been provided.

The feeling of scoring a win against someone who just did not give a shit was highly satisfying.

"Obviously not as much as our darling Satan did." Crowley allowed himself a smirk and a mouthful of scotch as Gabriel face immediately shadowed, and his burning glare turned on the King of Hell.

If Crowley had been human, he would have been terrified, and rightly so.

As it was, Crowley was a powerful demon, and while he probably should have been begging for mercy, his self-preservation instinct was on an extended vacation.

After a few tense moments, during which Balthazar clearly and obviously fidgeted in his seat while trying to think of a way to break the ice as the atmosphere grew darker, Gabriel spoke.

"You're a dick, you know that?"

"And may it always be so." And with that, Crowley raised his glass and clinked it against Gabriel's newly filled one which the barmaid had just set down.

They stared at one another for a few more seconds, tension as they seemed to subtly probe at one another, before some chuckles escaped and the moment passed.

Balthazar shuffled himself up closer to the bar, turning to the left so that both of his companions could see him.

"Sometimes I wonder about your sanity - not you Crowley. If you were skipping through Hell happily or were as well-adjusted as Dean Winchester, I wouldn't particularly care either way," he turned clearly back to addressing Gabriel. "But really, there are some things that make me want to play the doting brother, and you know how common an urge that is for me, so perhaps you should take that as some sort of indication."

Gabriel scoffed, and waved a hand dramatically in the air as Balthazar finished his little speech.

"Oh, shut it. I don't need any of my thrice damned-"

He held up a finger as Crowley began to speak. "Shut up."

"I said I don't need any of my thrice damned brothers thinking they can interfere in my goddamn life!" Crowley and Balthazar both heard the emphasis Gabriel put on the curse, and the only thought that could be articulated in that moment between the two of them was _"well, _someone's _bitter."_

Gabriel turned to face his drink, before stubbornly swallowing the entire contents in one glup.

"I mean, don't you think I've had enough?! I _died! _I don't need any of you dumbasses thinking that _now _you can come and save the day, when all you assholes didn't give a fuck before! So screw you all. You hear me Balthazar?"

He turned and looked straight at the other angel, who only gazed back with one eyebrow cocked, nursing his drink. Crowley looked back and forth between them both, wondering when this whole thing had turned into an episode of Jeremy Kyle.

"Screw. You." Gabriel slammed his fist down on the bar. Was it a sure fact that alcohol didn't affect angels...?

Perhaps it was time to fly the coop, before this daddy-issue ridden pair of angst-filled pre-teens with superpowers decided to rack up the body count, starting with him. Also, it would be nice to actually know how in the lovely, glorious Hell he ended up in a bar with two of the only race of beings that were a true threat to him (the Winchesters don't count, because while they were powerful in their own right and his ass would under fire if they caught up, they were so inept it was almost worth tuning into weekly).

"Well, boys, as _delightful_ as this little interlude has been, daddy's had enough now. Until the next time you try to kill me."

And with that, Crowley vanished.

Balthazar huffed as Gabriel continued to stare him down, fists clenching and grace flaring, before sullenly drinking the rest of his glass of wine.

"Typical."

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**I'm not actually sure this turned out the way the prompt asked, but it sort of ran away with me... Written in like 35 minutes, so forgive any errors.**

**I'm sorry, jellybabiesforall (tumblr)! I hope this suffices! (this turned out way longer than I intended it... why am I incapable of writing drabbles?!)**

**Anyway, reviews are much beloved. I would like some feedback.**

**Cпасибо, my friends :)**


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